


Stitches

by binahlance



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: (sort of), AU, Angst, Awkward bonding, Battle for the Cowl, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Development, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Forgiveness, Jaytim - Freeform, M/M, Slow Burn, arkham knight references, batman!jason - Freeform, tw; blood, tw; injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:27:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7444312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binahlance/pseuds/binahlance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Wayne is dead. Jason Todd is not Batman, and Tim Drake is no longer Robin. Gotham is burning.</p><p>True desperation sometimes lures us into a deal with the Devil.</p><p>WARNING: THIS FIC IS INCOMPLETE AND CURRENTLY ON HIATUS INDEFINITELY</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't requested, but it was something I've wanted to write for a long time. I'm not a huge jaytim shipper (not that there's anything romantic about this fic at all), but I got this idea while I was reading Battle For The Cowl, and I couldn't get it out of my head. This is basically an alternate ending to that series, but I don't think you need to have read it for this to make sense.
> 
> This is my first time writing for either of these characters, so let me know how I did! Jason and Tim are both very important to me, and I really want to do them both justice, personality-wise. In this fic, Jason's characterization is mostly based off of the Under The Hood arc and a couple of his better New52 appearances, while Tim's is mostly based off of his appearances in the Robin solo series.

Blood.

It was everywhere. In his teeth and on his tongue, metallic and sour. On his hands, under his fingernails. Dripping down his torso in little rivulets, tiny rivers of scarlet across dark fabric. 

He wasn’t sure how much of it was his own.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Jason was aware that he was bleeding out, the rivers growing thicker as his movements aggravated his wounds. He needed medical attention, and soon, or he was dead.

Then again, he was already as good as dead, anyway.

He failed. His one shot at redemption, his one chance to make things right, to be the Batman that Gotham needed, the way Bruce never could… and he lost it all. He wasn’t sure what hurt more -- the failure, or the broken ribs.

He had half a mind to lay there in his own blood and let it all end.

But then, he’d never made a habit of making things easy for himself. No reason to start now.

It took an eternity to lug himself to his nearest safehouse, and more than once during the trip he felt certain that he was going to give up the ghost before he made it. As it was, he was barely able to stumble inside before collapsing, barely conscious, his chest heaving with painful, labored breathing. He needed rest… sleep… if he could just close his eyes for a few moments…

He was still bleeding out. Mostly bled out by this point, if he was being honest with himself.

His entire body shaking, he managed to find his first aid kit and haul himself up onto one of the couches. The blood was coming from several cuts all over his body, at least a few of which were going to need stitches, but there was no way he’d be able to sew them up now, not with the violent tremors in his hands. He settled for just stopping the bleeding, just the bare minimum to keep himself from actually dying on a beat-up couch in a musty apartment that he only used on nights like tonight, when he was broken and bleeding and low on hope.

He woke up on the same couch nearly fifteen hours later, a roll of bandages still clutched in one hand. 

Not dead. He’d come close, closer than he’d been in a long, long time, and closer than he’d ever wanted to be again, but he wasn’t bleeding anymore and his hands had stopped shaking enough to sew up the worst of his wounds. As he worked, he took a mental inventory. Broken nose, two, possibly three fractured ribs, cuts and bruises just about everywhere. A total of thirty-nine stitches, and he had to reset his own nose. Not his best night, but not his worst, either.  
He didn’t let himself think about his failure, about how he was alone and had nowhere to go, or about all the people who would definitely be looking for him now. He kept himself focused. Stitch the cuts. Drink water to rehydrate. Eat. Take some painkillers. Drag himself back to the couch. Rest.

This time, he only slept for eleven hours, give or take.

He lay still, staring up at the mold-stained ceiling. (He really did need to invest in nicer safehouses. He had no idea how this building hadn’t been condemned.) Finally, he let himself contemplate the future.

Where would he go? What would he do? Who would he be, if not Batman?

There was one thing he was certain of: Gotham needed him. It needed a protector, someone who would risk anything, do anything, to keep its people safe. For him to leave the city now would be to turn his back on everything he believed in.

He stayed.

 

It took Tim six days to find him. He was surprised he had to wait so long. Then again, Tim had been almost as badly injured as he had on the night Gotham burned. He supposed that it was only fair to give the kid a couple of days to recover.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.” Jason leaned back against the brick wall of the oh-so-inconspicuous alleyway they’d chosen to meet up in. He wasn’t wearing his Batman armor, but he wasn’t wearing the Red Hood getup, either. Both of them felt… wrong, after all that had happened. 

“Neither was I, to be honest.”

Tim was in bad shape, and not just physically. His face still bore half-faded bruises that almost matched the deep purple crescents under his eyes, and he looked even paler than usual, which was really saying something. There was even a fine layer of dark stubble on his jaw, Jason noted with surprise. He hadn’t realized how grown up the kid had gotten.

Tim wasn’t wearing his Robin suit. 

“So,” Jason crossed his arms, wincing as the movement jolted his injured ribs. “No hard feelings?”

“You’re talking about how you tried to kill me last week, right?” Tim’s tone was sharp. “That depends. Are you staying in town?”

Jason nodded slowly. “I’m needed here. I don’t care what you, Dick, or anyone says. I’m doing the right thing. I’m doing what has to be done.”

“I figured you’d say something like that.”

“You’re not going to preach to me about morality? You’re not going to try to convince me that Saint Bruce knew what was best, and that I must repent and be forgiven?” Jason was surprised. He’d expected to be berated. Insulted, at the very least.

“Maybe a week ago I would have. But now…?” Tim sighed, tilting his head back to look up at the stars just visible between the tops of buildings. “My dad is dead. Both of them, actually. Biological and adopted.” 

He looked pained, and Jason didn’t blame him. He knew what it was like to lose a parent.

“I’ve always followed Bruce, always been proud to defend everything he stood for.” Tim continued, “But now everything is different. Dick didn’t want to pick up the mantle. He wanted to let Batman stay dead. He only stepped into the role because he didn’t think that you or I could handle it. And maybe he’s right.”

Jason was starting to get a sneaking suspicion where this was headed.

“Why are you here, Tim?”

“Dick is right about one thing -- I’m not Batman. But he doesn’t want to let me be Robin, either.” Tim’s voice had an edge to it, bitter and biting. “Damian is Robin now. Something about ‘needing to keep him close so we can keep him in line.’”

Jason snorted. “Right. Because we saw how well that parenting technique worked on me.”

“True.” A glimmer of amusement flashed in Tim’s eyes. “But it did wonders for Ca-- uh, Batgirl. Maybe Damian really will grow up to be a righteous, upstanding defender of peace and justice.”

They both burst out laughing at that. Jason was surprised by how good it felt to laugh with someone, how easy it was to feel normal with Tim.

“You know,” He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully, measuring their weight. “My previous offer still stands.”

“What?” Tim seemed genuinely shocked, even though they both knew the reason he’d come. “You’d really trust me, after everything? And you expect me to trust you?”

“I do.” Jason stepped forward, stretching out one hand. “Be my Robin.”

After a brief eternity of hesitation, Tim took his hand. 

 

“You ready?” The voice modulator built into Jason’s helmet garbled the words, twisting his voice into a menacing growl.

“Nope.” Tim’s mask didn’t change his voice so much as muffle it, giving it a slightly mechanical tone. “Are you?”

“Not at all.” Jason grinned behind the blank face of his new persona. It was a sleek, aesthetically pleasing design, blending all the best aspects of the Batman and Red Hood costumes to create something entirely new. Heavily armored, of course, with lots of convenient places to store weapons and ammunition. He’d pretended not to see the disapproving look on Tim’s face when he was loading up the guns.

He turned to face his sidekick, his partner, perched next to him on the rooftop. Creating Tim’s new look had been a challenge. Tim didn’t want heavy armor -- Jason refused to take him out without it. They’d finally agreed to meet in the middle -- the new suit was strong enough to withstand heavy damage, but light enough to allow the freedom of movement that Tim was used to. Like Jason’s armor, it was mostly black, but with subtle red and green accents like a memento of sorts.

“This city won’t know what hit it.”

“Hit as many of them non-lethally as you can, okay?” Tim’s tone was firm. He was standing his ground on this.

“Whatever you say, Robin.”

Jason knew that this partnership was way out of Tim’s comfort zone. He knew that Tim was still clinging to Bruce’s influence, whether he admitted it or not. Baby steps. Take things slow. Ease him into it.

He’d respect Tim’s no-killing code. For now.

“Alright.” He stood, looking out over the twinkling skyline. It felt good to be back in action. “It’s time. Are you with me?”

“I’m with you.” He felt Tim’s hand on his shoulder. They were in this together now, for better or for worse.

“Then let’s get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so Jason basically becomes the Arkham Knight (because I love the Arkham games almost as much as I love mixing continuities) and Tim is his Robin. I really love the idea of there being two Batman/Robin teams running around Gotham, one that is more noble and doesn't kill (Dick and Damian) and one that is more aggressive and kills when necessary (Jason and Tim).
> 
> I could totally be convinced to expand this into a full multi-chapter fic, if anyone was interested. Like I said, I really love this AU.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and Tim adjust to their newfound partnership. Unfortunately, the past has a tendency to stick around whether we want it to or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By popular request, I'm continuing this story and expanding it into a full multi-chapter fic! I am completely blown away by the positive reactions this fic has gotten, and I hope I can continue to give you guys what you want. 
> 
> There's not a lot of action in this chapter, as it's mostly just setting up for future events. (Because I'm taking what was originally supposed to be a one-shot and expanding it into a full-length story.) It's also a little more on the lighthearted side, but don't let that fool you -- I've got lots of angst planned for these boys down the road.
> 
> It's also worth mentioning that in this fic, Tim is around 18-19 years old. (His age is really hard to pin down in the comics because he keeps getting retconned every time he reaches adulthood, and I'm not sure how old he was canonically in Battle For The Cowl, but I always think of him as being in his late teens/very early adulthood.) I'm pretty sure Jason is canonically 2-3 years older than Tim, so he'd be in the 20-22 age range here.

Tim moved in a week later.

They’d invested in a new safehouse, a clean, simple loft in one of the city’s newer residential areas. The neighborhood was teeming with broke, college-aged kids -- no one was going to notice two more. If Gotham’s economy hadn’t been at a stunning low, the rent might even have been out of their price range.

The loft was only their home, of course. Their real base of operations was several blocks away, in the apartment Jason had almost bled out in after his fight with Dick. It was a dirtier corner of the city, where no one would question the two of them coming and going at odd hours of the night. The neighbors would probably just assume that they were drug dealers or low-level thugs, like half of the other residents in the building.

They’d spent all day moving Tim’s civilian identity into the little loft. Jason had been surprised by how little there had been to unpack. A few boxes of clothes, a handful of keepsakes. Tim had only brought the bare minimum with him.

“What did you tell Alfred?” Jason asked as he moved his generic-brand shampoo to the side to make room for Tim’s in the bathroom. He was unsurprised that Tim used expensive shampoo and conditioner. Unsurprised, but amused.

“The truth.” Tim spoke from the next room, where he was hanging his clothes in the small bedroom closet. “I told him that I couldn’t keep living at the Manor. Too many ghosts.”

Jason nodded. He could relate. “And how did he take it?”

“About as well as could be expected.” Tim sighed. “I promised him I’d stay in touch. He’s… he’s taken all of this a lot harder than he lets on.”

“Of course he has.” Jason frowned. “His son just died.”

 

That night, after having settled Tim Drake into their new home, they moved Robin’s things into their secret lair.

“We’re not calling it that.” Tim insisted. “We’re not Disney villains. If anything, it’s more of a HQ. Or a base.”

“‘Secret lair’ has a better ring to it.” Jason argued as he tried to unlock the apartment door without dropping the boxes he was carrying. “And speak for yourself. My only ambition in life is to become a successful Disney villain.” 

He groaned as he unceremoniously dumped the boxes onto the couch, dropping down to sit next to them. “Why do you even have all of this stuff, anyway? There’s enough spare computer parts here to open a Radio Shack.”

“Well, since we don’t exactly have access to Barbara or the Batcave computers anymore, I thought we might want to set up our own system.” Tim sat down next to him after placing his own load of boxes on the floor next to the couch.

Jason nodded. “So Babs is sticking by the new Batman, huh?”

“Of course she is.” Tim snorted. “It’s Barbara and Dick. Was there ever any doubt?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Fair point.”

Tim glanced down at the deep reddish-brown stain on the couch cushion next to his leg. “That looks recent. Was it from…?”

“That night? Yep.” Jason nodded. “We don’t all have Alfred around to patch us up when we take a beating.”

Tim winced. “Do you take a lot of beatings?”

“Why?” Jason eyed him cautiously. “Rethinking your decision to partner up with me?”

“Of course not.” Tim slouched back against the couch. “I’m just trying to figure out if I’m going to have to ‘patch you up’ very often.”

“Well, if we do our job, you shouldn’t have to.” Jason shrugged. “And if one of us does get hurt, the other one will take care of it. We’re a team now, Tim.”

“Yeah.” Tim scanned their bleak surroundings. It was far from the Batcave, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “Yeah, we are.”

 

Jason was out buying groceries when an unexpected visitor arrived at the loft.

She looked just like a normal college student in a soft, oversized sweater, her blonde hair twisted up into a bun. She was wearing makeup that almost, but not quite, concealed the bruise spread like an ink stain across her right cheekbone. She looked pretty and normal and not at all like someone who spent her nights beating up criminals. 

“Steph!” Tim was sure that his jaw must have hit the floor. “How did you--?”

“I may have gone through Alfred’s stuff to find your new address.” Stephanie Brown grinned in a way that was not at all apologetic. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Tim moved aside to let her in the door, reminding himself that he needed to at least try not to revert to an awkward teenager confronted by his first crush.

Even if he was, in fact, an awkward teenager who had just been confronted by his first crush.

Stephanie whistled as she entered the loft. “This place is nice. Lots of natural light and rustic furnishings. Very hipster of you.” She grinned at him over her shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’ve given up vigilantism to get a day job at a coffeehouse.”

“Who said I’ve given up vigilantism?”

Stephanie’s face fell. “Well, I mean, you told Dick that you were done. You walked out! We all kind of assumed…”

“I said I was done working with Dick.” Tim crossed his arms. “I never said I was quitting.”

“Oh.” Her eyes flashed with understanding. “This is because of what happened a couple of weeks ago, right? They told me about it. Dick said you almost died, said that you...”

“Yeah.” Tim huffed. “Yeah, it was definitely eye-opening. It made me rethink a lot of things.”

“Taking some time for yourself?” Stephanie nodded knowingly. “I can respect that. You need to--”

“Honey, I’m home!” Jason’s voice cut through the almost-tender moment. “I wasn’t sure what brand of coffee you like, so I got a bunch to choose--” He froze as his gaze fell on their visitor. “--from. I see we have a guest.”

“Uh, yeah.” Tim gestured awkwardly to the girl next to him. “This is Stephanie. She’s an… old friend. Stephanie, this is my roommate, Jason.”

“Oh, we’ve met.” Stephanie’s eyes were narrowed, her posture tense. “Gotta say, I like him a lot better without the red helmet and guns.”

“Spoiler.” Jason inclined his head in her direction as he set the groceries down in the kitchenette. “Nice to see you again.” 

“Actually, I’m going by Batgirl these days.” Stephanie shot a glance at Tim, smiling apologetically. “Surprise! This is so not how I envisioned telling you.”

“Batgirl?” Tim’s eyes widened. “What happened to…?” He trailed off. Jason didn’t know the previous Batgirl’s identity.

“Your adopted sister?” Stephanie grinned. “Don’t worry, she’s fine. She just decided to pursue a new creative direction after… well, after everything that happened. She’s going by Black Bat these days. Still running circles around all of us, of course.”

There was a brief silence before Stephanie spoke again. “So, the two of you…?”

“It’s complicated,” Jason grunted, at the exact same time that Tim muttered, “Business arrangement.” They glared at each other, while Stephanie glanced back and forth between the two of them.

Tim couldn’t tell if she was amused or upset.

“So you really are still in the game, huh?” She crossed her arms, classic defensive body language. “Although it looks like you may be playing with a new set of rules.” She gave Jason a meaningful look. 

“You’re right. I’ve totally corrupted him.” Jason nodded seriously, but the quirk of his lip gave him away. “Last night we set fire to a school and then did lines of coke off of a naked hooker.”

Stephanie snorted despite herself, her serious expression slipping momentarily before she settled back into solemnity. She turned to Tim, resting a gentle hand on his arm. “Just be careful, okay?”

“You’re not going to tell Dick, are you?” Tim felt stupid asking. It shouldn’t matter to him what the others thought of him. He wasn’t working with them anymore. But the reality was that they were his family, and it did matter to him. A lot.

“Not yet.” Stephanie bit her lip. “But… stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Steph --”

“I should go.” She glanced out the window, where the sun was hastily slipping towards the horizon. “My night job is calling. Bye, Tim.” She hugged him just a bit too hard. He tried not to seem like he was enjoying it too much.

Stephanie was the one to break the hug. She turned to Jason. “Nice to meet you without the mask. Take care of Tim for me, okay?”

Jason nodded, his expression genuinely serious this time. “I’ll do my best.”

“Yes.” Stephanie seemed thoughtful. “Yes, I think you will. Anyway,” Her bright smile returned. “Duty calls! I’ll see you boys around.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Jason glanced at Tim, one eyebrow raised. “So, how long were you two together?”

Tim winced. “That obvious, huh? We were together for a long time. But now…”

“You’re not.” Jason nodded. “Got it, touchy subject. I won’t ask. I do have one more question, though.”

“Fire away.” Tim dropped onto the couch, suddenly exhausted.

“Bruce adopted another damn kid?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was mostly just establishing Jason and Tim's partnership, plus a tiny bit of foreshadowing of events to come. (wink wink) The next chapter will also probably be mainly focused on developing the boys' relationship, but I promise it will have more action than this one did. And after that, things will be getting very intense very fast, so stay tuned.
> 
> A lot of people have been asking about the Batgirls, and I adore Cass and Stephanie, so I promise they will both play an important role in this story. That was actually one of my biggest problems with Battle For The Cowl, because I really felt like they should have been part of the story, and they were hardly even mentioned. Since this fic is basically my attempt to "fix" all the things I didn't like about BFTC, they'll definitely be showing up often.
> 
> Also, I need to decide in the next couple of chapters whether to make Jason and Tim's relationship romantic, or keep it platonic. Honestly, right now it could go either way. If anybody wants to give their two cents, I'd love some feedback. Do you guys want me to up the romance?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first bad night on the job came several weeks after they got started.
> 
> Tim had forgotten just how much it hurt to be knocked into a wall by a giant reptile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Sorry it's taken me so long to update this story. I actually do have a pretty legitimate excuse: my gallbladder is in the process of dying. I'm going in for surgery in a couple of weeks, but I'll try to crank out one more chapter before then. It just depends on how sick I am between now and my surgery. Thanks for being understanding.
> 
> In other news, a LOT of you guys seem to want romantic jaytim, and I am here to deliver. But, in order to develop the relationship realistically, it's going to be very slow burn, so don't expect anything particularly romantic for several more chapters. Jason and Tim have to build their relationship with each other before said relationship can turn romantic. Right now it's all about building trust and coming together as a team.

In the beginning, their operation went remarkably smoothly. They did most of their work in the area surrounding what used to be Arkham Asylum, cleaning up whatever scum lingered in the ruins. It was mostly D-list rogues, easy wins; most of the big names were long gone. They hadn’t come into contact with the new Batman and Boy Wonder yet -- Dick and Damian had their hands full with Black Mask’s explosive return to Gotham’s underworld.

It didn’t take the media long to notice the new players in the game. They’d been on the job for little more than a week when the first grainy, blurred photograph of the two of them appeared in one of the tabloids. By the end of the month, the public had even given them names. They were calling Jason the Arkham Knight, obviously because of his costume’s resemblance to the infamous Dark Knight. Tim was dubbed Red Robin, after a certain photo of him splattered with blood (fortunately not his own) went viral.

Much as he was loathe to admit it, Tim was enjoying himself. Jason was surprisingly easy to work with. True to his word, he respected Tim’s nonlethal policy -- he left a lot of criminals with gunshot wounds, but only on their arms and legs. Everyone they took down made it to a hospital. His martial arts and acrobatics skills were rusty, but what he lacked in finesse he made up for with brute strength and the most passionate determination Tim had ever seen. Sometimes he thought that Jason had been resurrected purely because he was too stubborn to stay dead.

But of course, nothing can go well indefinitely. Their first bad night on the job came several weeks after they got started.

Tim had forgotten just how much it hurt to be knocked into a wall by a giant reptile.

He remembered pretty quickly when he found himself crumpled on the cold concrete, clutching his side, which was definitely going to be a mosaic of multicolored bruises in the morning. His head was ringing. Somewhere behind him, he heard Croc hissing and Jason saying something that he couldn’t hear, but was willing to bet was a bad one-liner. There was the sound of a gun going off, followed by a scream of pain and fury that would have put any horror movie monster to shame. A loud thump, and the sound of something small skittering across the pavement.

He glanced to his right and saw the gun that had previously been in Jason’s hands. That wasn’t good.

Behind him, there was a lot of thumping and crunching -- the sounds of fists hitting flesh and of bones breaking. Jason grunted and swore. Croc hissed. More thumping and crunching.

Not good at all.

Tim’s legs shook as he forced himself to his feet. His suit felt like it was too tight, restricting his breathing, but he knew rationally that it wasn’t. Painstakingly slowly, he turned to assess the situation behind him.

Croc’s tail (which was a recent development -- Tim was sure he would remember that) had Jason pinned against a brick wall. Croc loomed over him, growling, saliva dripping from the razor-sharp teeth lining his maw. One of his giant, clawed hands was on Jason’s left shoulder, further immobilizing him.

As Tim watched, Croc’s other fist came crashing into Jason’s face, the Arkham Knight helmet shattering on impact. Jason made a sound that was worryingly similar to all of the air being let out of a balloon.

Croc’s mouth opened wide, hot breath ruffling Jason’s hair as he prepared to snap those powerful jaws around his head.

A gunshot rang out, then another and another and another. Four in total. Croc dropped Jason in his surprise, both of them turning to see who had fired.

Tim stood several feet away, his hands shaking as he held the smoking gun. Only three of the bullets had connected, three red spots blooming on Croc’s back. Under the scales and claws, he still bled red.

Croc looked ready to retaliate, but Jason beat him to it. Now that he was no longer being restrained, he’d been able to reach another gun strapped to his thigh. This one was bigger, chosen with enemies like Croc specifically in mind. Thanking his lucky stars that he believed in backups, he pulled the trigger over and over, unloading the entire clip into the hulking giant in front of him.

It wasn’t enough to kill him, but it drove him off. He slinked away to lick his wounds, and Jason turned his attention to his partner.

Tim dropped the gun, his hands still visibly trembling. He kicked it away, a look of distaste on his face, and made his way over to Jason. He stood over him, extending a hand to help him up.

Jason took the hand and let Tim pull him up, stumbling as his head spun.

“Let’s get you home.” Tim murmured, sliding an arm around Jason’s waist to support him.

 

Removing the helmet was a difficult process. The mechanism that locked it onto the rest of his armor had been damaged, and Tim had to pry it off, all while desperately trying to keep Jason from passing out, because there was no way he didn’t have a concussion. Jason, drowsy as he was, tried to help, hands fumbling over Tim’s as he scrabbled with the headgear. When they finally got it off, there was still the matter of picking out the tiny shards that had been buried in his face. That wasn’t pleasant for either of them.

“There.” Tim dropped the last jagged helmet shard into the pile on the coffee table. When Jason didn’t respond, he quickly turned to check on him.

Jason looked bad, to put it lightly. His right eye was swollen almost shut, surrounded by a purple bruise that extended down onto his cheekbone. The right side of his face was littered with tiny, shallow cuts from the shattered helmet, the worst of which had split his bottom lip, spilling blood onto his chin. His eyes were half-lidded and heavy with exhaustion.

“Do we have any of those painkillers?” He sounded as bad as he looked, his voice thick and hoarse. “My head is killing me.”

Tim nodded and went to retrieve the bottle. He shook two of the pills out and brought them back to Jason, who held out an expectant hand. Tim dropped the pills into his palm and watched him swallow them dry. For a few moments, there was silence.

Tim felt a hand on his arm. Jason was looking at him, his eyes a little clearer. “What about you? I saw Croc throw you. How bad is it?”

“I… I’d forgotten about it, actually.” Tim blinked, suddenly registering the pain in his side. “I haven’t checked yet, but I think I’m okay.”

To prove his point, he lifted the hem of the black turtleneck that he’d hastily changed into when they’d made it to the lair, wincing when his gaze fell on the injured area. His skin was already bruising, blues and purples spreading like watercolors across his stomach, side, and back. Those were going to take forever to fade.

“Shit.” Jason sat up quickly, his good eye widening. “ _Shit_ , Tim. Are your ribs okay?”

Before Tim could answer, Jason was kneeling on the floor in front of him, his hands cold on the bruised skin. He examined Tim’s ribs, feeling for breaks under the skin.

Tim stared down at him. “You literally just had your face bashed in by a lizard monster… and you’re worried about my ribs?”

Jason didn’t look away from Tim’s side, where he was watching his own fingers probe for broken bones. “You’re my partner. Of course I’m worried. It’s my job to worry about you.”

Tim was struck by the surrealness of hearing Jason Todd, who had actively tried to kill him at least once and almost killed him as collateral damage on several other occasions, say those words. But he was touched by the sentiment, and he suddenly realized that Jason meant what he said. They were partners now, and as far as Jason was concerned, that made Tim’s wellbeing his personal responsibility.

He realized in that moment that Jason really did have his back. As long as the two of them were working as a team, Jason would do everything in his power to keep him alive and well. Because that was what being partners meant.

For someone who operated almost entirely in moral grey areas, it was strangely black-and-white.

Jason withdrew his hands, moving back towards the couch. “I think you’re good. Anything else injured?”

Tim shook his head.

Jason nodded, letting his body go limp against the couch. “Is it okay if we crash here tonight? Not sure I’m up for the trip back to the loft.”

“That’s fine by me.” Tim carefully sat down next to him. “I can’t let you sleep, though. I’m, like, ninety-nine percent sure you have a brain injury.”

Jason groaned. “Letting me slip into a coma would be less cruel. I’m exhausted.”

“What was that you said just now about partners looking out for each other?”

Jason glared at him. “Don’t push it, Drake.”

Tim shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. “I’m still not letting you fall asleep, Todd.”

“And how, exactly, are you going to stop me?” Jason raised one eyebrow in challenge.

“Tell me about what it was like.” Tim spoke quietly, the humor gone from his voice. “When you left Gotham, I mean. Where did you go? What did you do? You’ve got to have some pretty impressive stories.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Only if you tell me what it was like in Gotham while I was gone. What it was like to grow up as a pampered rich kid.” He was wearing a smirk, teasing.

“Fair enough.” Tim slumped against the back of the couch. “You go first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing says "team bonding exercise" like being beaten up by a sentient lizard monster lmao


End file.
